Jeff Bauman Jr., 27, was hurt in the Boston Marathon explosions and had to have both legs amputated, his father said. / Charles Krupa, AP

by Billy Watkins, The (Jackson, Miss.) Clarion-Ledger

by Billy Watkins, The (Jackson, Miss.) Clarion-Ledger

JACKSON, Miss. -- It was approaching midnight on April 15, more than eight hours after two homemade bombs killed three and injured 264 near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. No family members had heard from 63-year-old Gregory Antoine, a native of Pass Christian, Miss., a 1972 graduate of Jackson State University and chief of plastic and reconstructive surgery at Boston Medical Center.

"I called his cell several times, but he never answered," said his 54-year-old brother, Kevin, who resides in Orange, N.J. "Greg had done a lot of running and jogging through the years, so it wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility that he had gone over and cheered on the marathoners at the finish line."

Around 2 a.m., Kevin's phone rang. Greg was OK but tired ... and sad ... and angry at the two cowards who had planted the bombs.

He had been working in the emergency room where most of the injured had been transported. He cleaned atrocious wounds, helped decide which patients needed surgery the quickest.

"It made me feel guilty the next day when he told me," said Kenneth Grundfast, chairman of the Department of Otolaryngology at Boston University School of Medicine, which shares a campus with Boston Medical Center. "I figured if they needed me, they would call me. But Greg didn't wait for that. He just went. And a man of his stature certainly didn't have to. But anybody who knows Greg, they know that's something he would do.

"He looked at me and said, 'I just figured they could use some help.' "

Antoine recalled: "The emergency room was like a zoo. People were crying, screaming. The injuries looked like those you would find in a combat zone."

Of dozens Antoine helped treat, two stand out: One was a man who had both his legs blown off. As Antoine worked on him, drapes concealed everything but the man's mangled limbs. A couple of days later, Antoine realized it was the person in the iconic photo - Jeff Bauman being wheeled to a makeshift medical tent.

"I talked to him later," said Antoine, the first African-American plastic surgeon to head a division of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery at a non-historically black medical school in the U.S. "He said he was there to meet his girlfriend at the finish line."

The other patient was a 65-year-old man who had flown from California to see his daughter-in-law finish the race. Shrapnel severed the sciatic nerve in his left leg. "That's the nerve that controls motor skills," Antoine said. "I met his wife and son. Really nice people. The man was a contractor who built hospitals, of all things."

Antoine's anger has grown in the weeks since the tragedy.

"We are such a giving country. We let people come and go. We extend the greatest gift possible to people, and that is American citizenship," said Antoine, a veteran of the Navy and the Army who retired as a decorated colonel. "What would make two guys do this to other Americans? Where did they develop this evil complex? It's baffling."

That in itself is news to those who know him: Rarely, is Greg Antoine baffled.

"He's a visionary," said Grundfast, who has more than 43 years in the medical profession. "We've had a joke for several years now. I tell Greg that he should have a little TV camera embedded in his forehead. When he gives people his idea of how to solve a problem, he should record it. Then when those same people come up with the same idea five or six years later, he should play back the tape of their original conversation."

Antoine and his five siblings are products of parents with a vision.

Their father, Eddie, was an outstanding athlete who played offensive guard on the same Alcorn State University football teams (1946-48) as Charles and Medgar Evers. He spent 22-plus years in the military and served in some capacity in three wars - World War II, Korea and Vietnam.

Their mother, Dorothy, was an outstanding student and tennis player growing up. "She was so good at tennis, they would sneak her into places where black people weren't allowed to play," Antoine said. "They would say she was an Indian."

She left Tougaloo College when her money ran out but eventually returned to school as a wife and mother at the University of Southern Mississippi's Gulf Coast campus. She worked 25 years as a public school teacher.

Growing up, the children had daily chores, taking care of the family's chickens, pigs and cows.

"I think my dad figured if we had chores, it would keep us out of trouble," says Kevin Antoine, who worked in Jackson as the planning director for public works from 1993-96. "But something really stands out about all that. If a baby chicken or pig was born with a broken leg or something like that, Greg could always fix it. He would put a splint on it or use whatever he could find. I guess his calling as a doctor was pretty clear from the start."

Greg Antoine was one of the first African Americans to enroll in all-white Pass Christian High School, when he was a junior in 1966. He was one of the first black athletes to try out for the football team. Antoine graduated from Pass Christian in 1968.

Medical titles can often be confusing and taken for granted.

But closely consider Antoine's: In addition to leading Boston Medical Center's plastic and reconstructive surgery division, he also is an associate professor of surgery and otolaryngology at Boston University School of Medicine.

"He's one of the few who is certified in both areas of medicine," Grundfast said. "It's just so rare because you are talking about a lot of years of study.

"I've never seen anyone who cares more deeply about health care than Gregory Antoine."

And Antoine, who also has an MBA with a concentration in health care from the University of Tennessee School of Business, believes he has answers to the nation's health care problems.

"You are talking on a cellphone, right?" Antoine said during the interview. "Well, so do about 350 million other Americans. Why not put a $1 tax on each cellphone per month and have that money go toward health care? You are talking about billions of dollars. Do the same with satellite and cable TV. Problem solved.

"People say, 'But that would hurt the poor people.' Poor people are the ones who need this the most."

Antoine, who is divorced with four grown children, has detailed his plan in letters to President Barack Obama. He has yet to receive a response.

He has dabbled with the idea of entering politics, but there is only one job that interests him: the Mississippi governor's chair.

"I still have family in Mississippi," he said. "It's still home. I'm pretty sure I'll come back one day. I was down there last year for a family event and spent quite a bit of time going around Jackson. Mississippi has so much to offer, so many natural resources. We have a deepwater port that could be enlarged, a world class medical center in (the University of Mississippi Medical Center), the Mississippi River.

"Remember now, I think outside the box. But the first thing I would do is build a rail system between the Gulf Coast and Jackson. If someone wanted to live in Hattiesburg and work in Jackson, they could be there in 40 minutes. The state would have a huge part in running it. And we wouldn't just be shuttling people, we'd be shuttling ideas."